Love is Blind
by achillespelides
Summary: AU: Simon is sitting in the park when a blind boy approaches him. Lots of snowbaz!
1. Chapter 1

Simon was sitting on a park bench, eating a cherry scone and watching a video on his phone. He was laughing, crumbs falling out of his mouth as he chuckled. He was so amused by the video that he barely noticed when another person approached him.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asked.

Simon wiped his mouth, paused the video and looked up. In front of him was a handsome young man, roughly Simon's age. He was wearing sunglasses so Simon couldn't see his eyes, but he could sense that they were beautiful.

 _That's a weird thing to sense_ , Simon thought. He smiled at the boy and nodded. He didn't move.

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" He repeated.

Confused, Simon nodded his head again and stuttered, "Yeah, sure, sure, why not."

"Thank you," the boy said, taking a few steps forward and hesitantly sitting down. It was only then that Simon realized the red and white stick that the boy was holding in his right hand.

"Do you, uh, need any help?" Simon quickly blurted out.

The boy scoffed, carefully leaning the stick against the bench and sitting back. He searches through his backpack before pulling out a brown paper bag. He takes out a bagel from it and takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. Says, "I'm quite alright on my own, thanks."

Simon is a little offended, but tries not to show it. "No problem." He puts his earbuds back in and clicks play on the video, finishing it. With one last laugh he puts his phone away.

"Funny video?"

"Uh, yeah, how'd you-"

"Your volumes turned up pretty high."

Simon makes an uncomfortable face but realizes the man can't see it. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm done watching now."

The boy takes another bite of his bagel. Wipes his mouth cleanly with a napkin.

Simon looks away, embarrassed for staring but thankful the boy couldn't see it. He takes out a book - one for school, a biography he has to read for his literature class - and starts to read. He still has 86 pages left and the report is due in 2 days. Simon's not the best when it comes to time management.

The boy clears his throat, finished with his bagel. "What are you reading?"

"Huh?"

"Your book? What's it called?" The boy smirks, turning his head in a condescending way to face Simon.

Simon wonders how he knew he was reading and opens his mouth in confusion, but the other boy is ahead of him. "The pages. I can hear them flipping."

Oh. Duh. Simon feels like an idiot - a judgemental, ignorant idiot. He starts to apologize but the boy holds a hand up. "Don't apologize. Just tell me the title of the book."

"Well, um, it's uh, a biography by this psychologist-"

"You like psychology?"

"No, not at all," Simon laughs. The idea is preposterous. "But it's required reading for one of my classes."

"Oh, I see," the boy smiles. "So you're a college student, then?"

"Uh, yeah. A senior actually," Simon says shyly. He's confused as to why the boy is so interested in him. "You?" he asks, though he's not sure he cares.

"Im a photographer."

Simon gawks. "Wait what?"

The other boy laughs, his teeth spreading wide, sparkling. "I'm just fucking with you. Now that'd be ridiculous," he smiles. "No, I'm actually a musician."

"Really? What do you play?"

"The violin," he says, raising his eyebrows so that they arch over the rim of his sunglasses. "I work with the city orchestra."

"That's really cool," Simon says, unable to keep himself from laughing a little bit.

"Yeah, laugh now but then cry later when you see my paycheck," he sneers.

"Sorry I didn't mean to laugh. I just wasn't expecting that answer," Simon apologizes, his cheeks red.

"Yeah, well . . ."

The two boys sit in silence for a while, just absorbing the park. Simon watches the boy carefully, studying him. His face. His hair. The way his lips looked.

"What's your name by the way? I'm Simon," he said, holding his hand out, though he wasn't sure if the boy would instinctively hold out his hand as well. "Simon Snow."

"Nice to meet you, Simon," the boy says, smiling. He takes off his sunglasses to review two startling bright eyes. They're glossed over, unfocused, but still beautiful. "You can call me Baz."


	2. Chapter 2

Simon stares at the slip of paper in his hand, double checking that he's got the apartment number right. 108. He looks up at the door in front of him. Silver letters rest over the door: 108. _Great,_ Simon thought, taking a deep breath. Why is he so nervous? This is just two friends, hanging out. It's not a big deal.

Right?

He knocks on the door, taking a deep breath. He readjusts the straps of his backpack, pushes up his glasses. Exhales.

"Hey, Baz," Simon says as the door swings open, smiling.

Baz is dressed casually; in just jeans and a black t-shirt. He's not wearing his glasses or carrying his cane. His eyes are a stormy grey, clouded over, unfocused. Simon wants them to meet his eyes but knows they won't. He sighs internally.

"Hey, Snow. Glad you could come over," he smiles. "Come on in." He gestures for Simon to come in, pulling the door back, and he does. The apartment is dark; the blinds are drawn, the lights are off.

"Um, are there any-"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Baz says, placing his hand easily on the wall and flipping a light switch.

"Cool, thanks."

"Feel free to sit down," Baz says, heading towards the kitchen, which opened up into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea-?"

"Tea would be great, thanks," Simon says. He sits down on the plush red sofa. There's a coffee table in front of him, a few books and magazines snapped on it. Simon picks up one, curious, and flips through the pages. Braille. He picks up one of the magazines; it's a stupid tabloid, but it's not in braille. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask the question. He doesn't want to be offensive.

"Here you go," Baz says, coming over and setting the teacups - as well as a platter with milk and sugar - carefully down on the table. He also sets down a plate of scones; homemade, by the looks of it.

"I made some cherry scones. I'm not sure if you like them but-"

"They're my favorite," Simon laughs, reaching for one and shoving it in his mouth.

"Great," Baz smiles, sitting down on the couch next to him, grabbing his cup of tea and sipping carefully. "My mom taught me how to bake when I was young. She loved scones."

"Loved?"

"Yes," he sighs, setting down his cup. He carefully crosses one leg over the other, settling back against the cushions. "She passed away when I was young."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Baz. I . . "

"It's alright. I've had time to come to terms with it. And I still have my father, and my siblings," he says, almost casually. Simon can tell there's more to the story, but he doesn't push it.

Unsure of what to say, Simon shifts uncomfortably. "Do you, uh, get along with your family?" he asks awkwardly

"Yes. They live outside of London - my siblings go to a private school and my father works from home - so I don't really see them much. But they visit every so often. And I go home during the holidays, of course." Baz smiles as he talks about his family and Simon wonders what that's like. "What about you? Your family?"

"Oh," Simon says, shoving another scone into his mouth. "I'm actually . . . I'm an orphan. So."

Baz tilts his head up surprised, staring (well, as much as Baz can stare) at him with a strange look. Confusion? No. Sadness? Maybe. Simon can't tell. "I'm sorry. That must be hard."

"It's okay," he shrugs. "My best friend, Penelope, her family's basically mine, too. She's great. They're all great."

"How'd it happen?" Baz asks, leaning in a bit closer.

"Oh," Simon says, taken aback. "I don't know. They, uh, left me there. At the orphanage. Dropped me off when I was a baby."

Baz doesn't respond. Simon bites his lip, now very uncomfortable. He tries to think of an excuse to leave, but can't. What can he say - "Oh it's only been 10 minutes but I've gotta go do this thing"? No. Simon may be idiotic sometimes but he knows better than that. He can't be a total jerk.

"So, uh, why'd you invite me over?" Simon finally asks after silently working up the courage to speak again. Baz had seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence. To Simon, Baz seems like the kind of guy who enjoys silence, even relishes in it.

After their encounter at the park, the two had exchanged numbers, saying they'd hang out some time. Simon hadn't thought much of it; he was just trying to be nice. But still, when Baz called him the other day asking him to come over, something compelled him to say yes. He couldn't put a finger on it. Sure, Baz was nice and witty and attractive (though that didn't matter) but it wasn't like Simon really cared that much. He wasn't in need for new friends. He didn't feel this instant connection to Baz.

So why did he come?

"Oh, that," Baz says, smirking. He sets his teacup down and stands up, walks over to bookshelf, pulls out a few books. Simon wonders how he does that - picks up the exact books he wants. "I know you said you had to read that book for class, but I thought you might want these," Baz says, handing the small stack to Simon. "Even if you don't like reading, these are quite good. They're a few of my favorite books but I, uh, obviously don't need them anymore," he laughs, pointing to his eyes.

"Wow, thanks." Simon takes the stack, looking at them curiously. He doesn't read, especially not for pleasure, but something about the gesture makes him smile. Baz thought about him enough to give him these books, even if he knows Simon will never read them. That means something, doesn't it? "I'll let you know what I think."

"Wonderful," Baz responds. He takes another sip of his tea. Simon watches him carefully. He's mesmerized by him, though he doesn't know why. There's something about Baz that just makes Simon . . . curious.

"Baz, are you-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"If I was seeing someone?"

"Yeah."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay." Simon takes a long deep breath and looks at the other boy. Baz doesn't flinch. He seems calm, untroubled. How is that possible? "I should go. I have class tomorrow morning, and-"

"I like you, Simon Snow," Baz interrupts.

"Wh-what?"

"I like you," Baz whispers. "A lot."

Simon doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he stands up and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him. He forgot the books on the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

1\. Sorry for the long wait and 2. I accidentally changed tenses, so sorry about that!

* * *

Simon sat at his desk attempting to study, but he kept getting distracted by his phone. Penelope was texting him - she had been out of town the past few days and was finally on the train home - and he couldn't stop himself from responding. It didn't help that he hates studying. "Ugh," he said, shoving a book closed and giving up. He picked up his phone and saw that Penny had texted him: _Problem with the train . . . stuck here for at least another 30 minute, maybe an hour. Wanna order dinner for me for when I get home?_ Simon rolled his eyes, but Googled the menu for their favorite Chinese restaurant anyway and quickly called the restaurant to place an order. Even though it'd only been 4 days, Simon missed Penny; their apartment felt empty without her there.

He hung up the phone and flipped open his book again just as the doorbell rang. Huh. Simon wondered if Penny's text had been some weird joke - maybe she was already home? But then why would she ring the doorbell, he thought. She does have a key.

Simon pushed back his chair and stood up, shuffling towards the door. He looked through the peephole and practically jumped back at what he say. Baz. Standing there. Outside of his apartment. A stack of books (the same stack he had left at his apartment) in his hands. His cane was squeezed between his arm.

"Shit," Simon whispered. He paced back and forth a few times nervously. He looked down at what he was wearing - pajamas - and thought about changing before remembering it was Baz. He did fix his hair, though, for some unexplainable reason. Simon oddly felt the urge to look nice for the one person who couldn't see him.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Simon?" Baz asked, unsure.

"Uh, yeah, it's me," Simon murmured.

Baz smiled, his teeth shining. "Sorry if this is a bad time; our conversation got cut short the other day, though, and I thought, perhaps, we could continue?" His voice was so silky and warm that Simon was almost leaning forward.

"Oh, um, yeah, I . . I was just studying. But, yeah, come in," Simon stuttered, flustered and uncomfortable. "Oh, I'll take those-" he said, gesturing to the books but then realizing that Baz couldn't see the gesture. Instead, he just grabbed the books out of his hands. "Sorry I left them. I want them, I do, I just was, um, in a hurry."

"It's alright," Baz laughed, amused by Simon's nervousness. He took a few hesitant steps before tilting his head towards Simon. "Could you lead me to the couch?"

Simon hit his forehead with the back of his hand. _Stupid._ "Yeah." He gently (and very awkwardly) grabbed Baz's left arm and directed him toward the couch. Baz laughed and Simon attempted to maneuver him in a polite way, but Simon hated himself for his behavior. Why was he always such a mess in front of Baz?

"So, how did you find me? I mean, my apartment?" Simon asked, remembering that Baz's appearance was not only sudden and unexpected, but a bit stalkerish.

"At the park you told me. You told me you lived in this building, so I just asked the security guard which suite."

"Oh. Right." Simon cleared his throat. The two boys sat together silently. Baz was amuse by Simon's uncomfortableness.

"So, um, what were we talking about again? The other day, before I had to leave," Simon said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. He remembered perfectly well where they left off.

"I was telling you I like you."

"Oh. Right."

"A lot."

"Yes. I remember now."

Silence. Baz leaned back against the couch cushions, relaxing. _How can he be so relaxed right now?_ Simon thought. He was practically sweating.

"You like me, too, Snow."

"What? Me? No, I never said that I, um, I didn't-"

Before he could finish his thought, Baz was pressed against him, so close he could feel his breath on his skin. Their noses were almost touching. "You like me, Snow. Admit it," he whispered against his skin.

Simon had a hard time catching his breath. "No, I don't," he said shakily. His heart was racing, jumping out of his skin. Could Baz hear that, feel that? Simon hoped not. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm, but Baz's hands casually slid up his arms and wrapped around his neck, bringing him even closer.

"If you don't like me, Snow, then why haven't you moved?"

Simon didn't have an answer. He didn't know what to say or how to respond with words. Words just seemed like too much to think about right now, and Simon wasn't the best at thinking. Or speaking, for that matter. He swallowed hard and pushed away his fear and grabbed Baz's face and kissed him.

Really kissed him.

"I knew it," Baz whispered against his lips, pushing Simon back so that he was laying down on the couch. Baz stretched out over him, kissing him passionately, his lips painting a masterpiece on Simon's skin.

"Stop, stop," Simon muttered, though he didn't really want to stop. The way Baz felt against his skin was incredible, unlike anything he had ever felt before. But this was too much for Simon to handle at once.

Baz sighed and sat up, giving Simon some space to breathe. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" Baz asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it's not that, um," Simon struggled to find the words. He was enjoying himself, immensely. But how did he tell Baz that he didn't quite understand what was going on? "It's just that, well, I've never . . . I mean, I'm not . . ."

"Gay?" Baz finished for him.

"Yeah."

Silence. Simon stared at Baz's face. He was so beautiful. He had a perfectly sculpted face. Simon wanted to run his hands over it.

"Can we just, you know, take it slow?" Simon finally asked.

"Okay," Baz whispered, leaning back in and kissing him again, this time gently, softly, delicately. Simon let his hands wander up to Baz's face and he cupped his cheeks, rubbing his thumbs against his skin. Baz's hands found Simon's waist and pulled him in closer, their chests almost touching.

"Is this slow enough for you?" Baz said, pulling away just a centimeter. Simon nodded and pulled Baz back against him. Baz eased him backwards again so that he was laying down, but this time without any rush or hassle. They took their time. They indulged in every second.

Simon didn't really know what was happening or what he was feeling, but he didn't want it to stop. Baz felt right the way nobody else - no girl - had ever felt before. Baz ignited something deep inside of Simon that had never been touched before, and it felt amazing. Simon felt amazing.

The doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" Baz whispered, still kissing Simon, his lips pressed against his cheek.

"Shit," Simon moaned. "It's the delivery guy. I ordered food for my roommate and I."

"Oh," Baz said, sitting up. Simon sat up, untangled himself from Baz's legs, and walked to the door. He opened it and, surprisingly, found Penny, her arms full with a large plastic bag and her suitcase behind her.

"Simon!" she smiled, her eyes lighting up. "I ran into the delivery guy on the way in," she said, handing him the plastic bag. The scent of fried rice filled the air and Simon inhaled happily. She threw her arms around Simon, the bag in between them, before grabbing her suitcase and heading inside. "Oh my gosh, Simon, you will not believe the trip I had! So you know that guy from class who always sits behind me and keeps trying to- oh, hello!" Penelope stopped as she noticed Baz sitting on the couch. Simon shut the door and awkwardly came to stand between them.

"Penny, this is my . . . friend, Baz. Baz, this is my best friend and flatmate, Penny."

"Pleasure to meet you, Penny. Simon's told me a lot about you," Baz smiles, ever so charming.

"As to you," Penny smiled. She gave Simon a questioning look but he brushed it off. He didn't want to deal with her questions now. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"Oh, no, no. I was actually just about to leave. You two should catch up, anyway," Baz said, standing up carefully.

"Well, you're welcome anytime, Baz. It was nice meeting you," Penny said, walking towards him. Baz instinctively held his hand out and Penny shook it. "I'm gonna go put my things in my room and change; be right back!" She grabbed her suitcase and headed down the hallway.

Simon practically ran to Baz. "I'll call you, okay?"

"I'd like that."

He walked Baz towards the door and opened it. Baz gave Simon a quick kiss, smiling. Simon couldn't help but blush. "Let me know that you get home safely, okay?" Simon asked as Baz stepped out the door.

"Yes, mum," he laughed. Simon smiled as Baz walked away before shutting the door. Penelope shuffled back in, now wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Grab some plates, Simon, I'm starving!"


	4. Chapter 4

"It was completely covered in glitter?" Baz asked, almost choking on his lasagna. After swallowing hard, he scoffed. "I can't imagine."

"You don't want to, either," Penny complained, groaning at the memory. She was ranting about her old roommate, Trixie, who was like a walking glitter dispenser. Simon had been living with his girlfriend at the time, so Penny had leased out his bedroom. "It took me over a month to finally clean out the apartment once she moved out. I remember one morning I found glitter in the oven! I mean, how did it even get in there?"

"Every time I saw Penny she'd have at least one random speck of glitter on her," Simon laughed. "It was hilarious!"

"It was horrid," Penny glares. The three smile at the funny memory. Penny scrapes the last bit of lasagna off her plate before standing up and dropping her dish in the sink. "Well, I've gotta go meet Agatha," she says, checking the clock.

"Where are you two going?" Baz asks.

Penny rolls her eyes as she shrugs on her coat. "Some stupid party. I hate parties - Agatha knows that - but she begged me to go with her. The guy she likes will be there and she needs moral support or something. Cause apparently we're still in middle school," she laughs, pretending to be annoyed, but Simon knows she really does care. Agatha's one of their only friends, and as different as Penny is from her, the two are basically sisters.

"Well, good luck with that," Simon smirks, shaking his head.

"I'll see you guys later!" Penny replies, shutting the door behind her.

The minute the door closes, Simon is on top of Baz. He straddles him, kissing him fiercely, unable to wait any longer. Sitting through dinner was nearly excruciating for Simon. He hasn't seen Baz in three days and his body practically ached with wanting. And, of course, Penny didn't know about the two of them, so he had to wait till she is gone. And now that she is, he isn't holding anything back.

Baz's chair tips backwards a little and the two laugh, lips pressed against each other, as they try to reorient themselves into a safer position. "Couldn't wait a minute longer?"

"No," Simon blushes, pressing a gentle kiss on Baz's forehead. He carefully plucks his dark glasses off his face and stares at him, mesmerized. I haven't stopped thinking about you for the past three days."

Baz smiles at this, a gentle, simple smile that makes Simon's heart flutter. "Really? That seems quite implausible. I'm sure you thought of _something_ else over those 72 hours," Baz retorted. Simon is quickly starting to understand Baz's very complicated personality: his sometimes overprotective shell, his fake hatred and pessimism, his secret teddy-bear side. He's still trying to figure it out, but at the moment, Simon is unsurprised by Baz's annoying remark.

"You're right. I also thought about scones."

"You're always thinking about scones, though."

Simon laughs and runs his hand around Baz's ear, tucking in a few stray pieces of dark hair. "Then help me think about something else," he whispers seductively. Baz grins mischievously in response.

* * *

They're fire.

Burning, burning.

They're an entanglement of limbs on Simon's bed: one pale arm here, a tan leg there. Their lips are exploring each others'. They're fire.

* * *

Simon is resting his head on Baz's chest, trying to catch his breath. Baz is blushing, which Simon finds adorable. They're both still fully clothed - Simon had wanted to but decided against it; he did say they were going to take this slow. But something inside of him aches to touch Baz's chest, to feel his bare skin pressed against his own.

 _Slow,_ he reminds himself. _Get to know him better._

"Baz?" he murmurs.

"Yeah?"

"How did it happen?" Simon's been scared to ask; he doesn't know if he's earned that much yet. Maybe it's too soon to ask. Simon hopes not. He wants to know all about him.

Baz is quiet for a long time. His breathing gets a little shakier, and Simon worries he's messed up. He starts to sit up, but then decides against it. Baz wouldn't like the pity in his movements.

"My mother," he begins, taking a large breath. Simon gives his hand a quick, gentle squeeze. "She was a scientist. She was brilliant. She had her own laboratory downtown. She had all these awards and stuff. She was . . . she was going to do big things."

Simon swallows, wondering what it must be like to have lost someone so close to him. Even though Simon is an orphan himself, he never had any parents to lose. He's never had that connection. Baz's situation - to lose the woman who raised him - is much worse than his, Simon thought.

"Sometimes, when my dad was out of town, I would go to her lab after school. She would sit there, looking at a microscope or running tests, and play with me simultaneously. Sing me songs or tell me stories. Teach me as much as she could." Baz takes another breath and Simon worries that he's crying. But Simon glances up - careful not to move his head too much - and see's that Baz's eyes are dry. He seems fairly composed. Simon wonders how many times he's told this story. "I was sitting on the ground, working on some stupid elementary level homework; a drawing or word search or something, I don't know. And I reached up to grab my water bottle from the counter without looking. But I accidentally knocked over a beaker. I looked up as the chemical poured onto my face. My eyes were stinging . . . I was crying, I didn't know what was happening, everything hurt.

"And my mom ran towards me to help me, to get me to the eye wash station to rinse out my eyes. There were other people in the lab, too. I couldn't see anything but I heard them screaming and calling for help. And my mom . . . I didn't see it, obviously, but this is what they said happened . . . they said she ran towards me but she slipped on the liquid and fell backwards. Cracked her skull open."

Simon fights back a gasp. When he asked him this question, he didn't realize he was getting two stories in one. He didn't know, and he instantly regrets asking him. He crossed a boundary too soon. "Baz . . . "

"I remember crawling forward to reach her and I remember my hands landing in something sticky . . . and I just . . I screamed. I lost it." Baz's voice has become soft. He's barely even audible and Simon strains to hear him. It suddenly clicks in Simon's mind that Baz feels guilty for this. He doesn't care about losing his sight at all. That wasn't the worst part - or even a bad part, in Baz's mind. The only thing that Baz can think about is the fact that he is the reason his mother died.

Simon can't fathom all that Baz has been through.

He doesn't know how to respond in words. _I'm sorry_ doesn't cut it. _It's not your fault_ would be a lame attempt at making Baz feel better. Simon knows nothing he says will make him feel better. Nor anything he can do.

But he tries anyway.

Simon sits up and ever so gently presses a kiss to Baz's closed eyelids - one and then the other. Now that he's paying attention, he can see how the skin around his eyes isn't as perfect as he thought it was. It's a little scarred, a little rough.

Simon doesn't mind.

He presses another kiss to Baz's lips, a simple, innocent peck. Baz reaches his hand up and touches Simon's cheek, smiling. He pulls him close to him, against his chest and then reaches for the blankets at their feet. Simon helps to grab them and pulls them up over the two of them, tucking them under the blanket's safety and comfort. Simon curls into Baz. Baz wraps his arm around Simon and pulls him closer.

They fall asleep.

Simon dreams of fire.


	5. Chapter 5

Baz comes over almost every day. Simon told him his class schedule, so he knows when he'll be home. Luckily, being a senior, Simon only has one or two classes a day, and most of them are in the early afternoon, leaving the night for just Baz and him. Sometimes Baz has rehearsal with the orchestra, but most of his job consists of practicing on his own time, which has now turned into practicing at Simon's flat until he comes home. Simon loves unlocking his door to the sound of him playing. The music sends tingles throughout his whole body and makes him blush. Simon loves to come home and stand behind Baz as he plays, watching his elegant fingers bounce around the strings without a doubt.

Penny doesn't know about them yet, but it's obvious to Simon that she suspects something. Simon's never really had any other friends (let alone _male_ friends) and she's getting suspicious about Baz constantly being at their flat. Simon tells her they just have a lot in common and that it's "good he's making new friends." Penny just rolls her eyes at him and saunters off to her own room to leave the two alone.

"Baz?" Simon asks when he opens his front door to complete silence. It's not a completely weird occurrence; after all, Baz can't practice his violin the entire morning for hours straight.

But when no one responds, he gets nervous. It's obvious Baz is here: his sweater is tossed over a chair, his glasses are folded neatly on the kitchen table next to his violin case. He could have gone out for a bit, but when Simon's gaze finds Baz's shoes neatly tucked against the wall, he dismisses that idea.

"Basilton?" Simon calls, a bit louder this time. He rushes towards his bedroom door to find it closed. He quietly pushes open the door. Baz isn't there. "Fuck," Simon whispers, shutting the door and going further down the little hallway. _Maybe he's in Penny's room?_ he wonders, though he doubts it. Her door is wide open and he's nowhere to be seen. And then his eyes land on the locked bathroom door and Simon hits his forehead. _Duh._ He knocks gently on the door, "Baz? You in there?"

No reply. Well, no verbal reply. Simon presses his ear against the door and hears faint sniffling. Simon's panic shoots up and he pushes open the door - which is gratefully unlocked - and finds Baz crumpled up in a ball against the wall, head buried in his hands. He's crying but he's definitely trying not to.

"Baz? What's wrong?" Simon whispers, squatting down next to him, running a hand gently across his knee. Baz just shakes his head. "Come on, Baz. I can't help if you don't talk to me."

Baz doesn't lift his head, but he speaks quietly. "I want to see you."

The words break his heart. Simon doesn't know what to say. There's no way to fix this, no magical spell to heal him. Simon wishes there were. He would give anything to stop the tears flowing from Baz's unseeing eyes. "I know," Simon says weakly, unsure of what else to say.

Baz lifts his head up and grasps for Simon's hands, squeezing them tight. His face is read and blotchy; it's obvious he's been in here for a long time, now. "You're always telling me that I'm beautiful. That you love watching me play the violin, or laugh, or sleep. And I love you for it, I do. But I just . . . I wish I could do the same," he confesses. "I've never struggled with being blind. It's just . . it's something I've grown up with and learned to deal with. But with you . . . I just want to look at you and see your beautiful face and stare into your eyes and watch you fall asleep beside me." Baz takes his hand and presses his lips against Simon's knuckles. "I wish I could do that, but I can't."

Simon takes a long breath, trying to think of what to say, what to do.

But instead of thinking, he just follows his instinct.

Simon gently takes Baz's hands and presses them against his cheeks. "My cheeks are a little pudgy, if I'm honest. It's from all of the scones," he says. He then moves one of Baz's hands to his nose, wraps his fingers around the bridge. "My nose is awkwardly proportioned. And covered in freckles." He guides Baz's hands to his eye, closing them so Baz can feel his lids. "My eyes are blue. Kind of like the ocean, I guess, but that's such a cliché description." Simon starts to take his hands somewhere else, but Baz catches on, a slow smile spreading on his face. He moves his hands around to touch Simon's ears, which makes him laugh. "Um, my ears are, normal, I guess?" he laughs and Baz blushes at his awkwardness. "Sometimes they get really pink, like when it's super cold outside." Baz moves his hands to rustle through Simon's curls. "Oh, my hair . . . it's kind of a mess. I'm blonde, I guess, but it's kind of golden? Like I've been in the sun too long? And it's curly, as you can tell, but not too long." Simon clears his throat, unsure of what else to say.

Baz just smiles, running his fingers through Simon's hair. "I'm picturing you in my head," Baz whispers. "You're beautiful, Simon Snow."

Simon presses his forehead against Baz's and the two stay there for a while, just breathing, until the breathing turns into kissing. "Thank you," Baz whispers against Simon's lips, tears of gratefulness falling down his cheek. Simon wipes away the tear. "Thank you," he repeats.


	6. Chapter 6

Baz's lips are pressed against Simon's, sending fire down his spine. Or maybe it's ice. Simon isn't sure, but whatever it is, he wants more. He leans forward even further, deepening their kiss and twining his hands around Baz's bare back. Baz's hands slide through his golden curls and then down his neck. Simon's whole body aches at the touch. He hastily gets up on his knees and repositions himself so that he's straddling Baz, his legs wrapped tightly around his back. Simon smiles as Baz resumes kissing him, his lips devouring his skin. "Baz," Simon gasps, unable to stop himself, wanting more.

Baz reaches down and unzips Simon's jeans. He awkwardly kicks them off (and is grateful that Baz can't see his very unsexy struggle). Baz slips out of his pants in a much more graceful manor, and Simon wonders if it's because he's had a lot of practice. The thought makes him itch. It's not that Simon is jealous of anyone who was with Baz in the past but . . . well, he is. Jealous. The thought of Baz with another boy makes Simon's heart beat quicken. He grabs onto Baz tighter and kisses him fiercely, claiming him.

"Woah there, Snow," Baz growls, surprised by his confident attack. "I didn't know you had that in you."

"Neither did I," Simon admits, laughing as he runs his lips over Baz's chest. Baz grabs the tip of his chin and pulls him upwards so that their lips meet, tongues dancing a fiery waltz. But the dance only lasts for a moment before Baz comes up with a new one. He rolls the two of them over, hovering above the golden boy, and presses their bodies together. They fit perfectly, their bodies lining up like puzzle pieces, matching. Simon arches back as Baz presses his lips against Simon's neck. He bites Simon gently, scratching his neck with his teeth, and Simon moans in ecstasy. "You like that, Snow?" Baz whispers against his neck. Simon lets out a weak whimper and Baz attacks his neck again.

He's in complete bliss right now. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Except something does.

Simon's phone dings, notifying him of a new text message. The two ignore it, Baz continuing to destroy Simon's neck as Simon's fingers wrap tightly around Baz's back, but then it dings again. And again. Simon's phone rarely ever goes off, as the only people he really talks to are Baz and Penny, both of whom he sees all the time. There's not really a need to text, especially when they're all in the same apartment. The continuous _dings_ make Simon a bit worried. Who would be texting him so frantically? "Baz, I shoul-"

Baz rolls off of him silently, agreeing. Simon places a quick kiss on his forehead before reaching across him to the nightstand, where his phone sits. He has 3 new texts from Penny.

 _Shit,_ Simon thinks. He stares at his phone blankly, trying to figure out what to do. Should he text back? Should he ignore it? Should he apologize? "Shit," he says aloud this time, still gaping at his phone.

"What is it, love?" Baz asks, rolling over so that his arm drapes across Simon's waist. He kisses his back, urging him to put the phone down.

"It's Penny," Simon whispers, practically mortified.

"And?" Baz asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, uh," he murmurs, scratching his head. He sets his phone down but doesn't lay back down beside Baz. He just remains sitting up, staring blankly ahead.

"Well, what did she say, Snow?" Baz asks, now growing irritated.

"She, uh, she knows about us."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

The two are silent for a moment.

"What exactly did she say?" Baz asks, not really sure what the problem is.

Simon makes a slight choking noise, his cheeks growing red. "She can, um, hear us," he murmurs, embarrassment seeping through his skin.

Baz scoffs, almost amazed. "Wait, she's home?"

"I guess so."

"But she's supposed to be at work till 9-"

"I guess she got off early."

"Oh," Baz says. Simon can hear that he's trying to hold back laughter. Baz finds this situation hysterical. Simon, however, does not. He knew Penny had her suspicions about the two of them but _this_ was not the way he wanted to confirm them for her. _This_ was something he never, ever wanted Penny to even think about, let alone hear. His head ached at the ridicule this would bring.

Baz starts to snicker a little bit.

"What?" Simon asks, not amused.

"So what did she text you?"

Simon rolls his eyes, not wanting to think about the exact words.

"Simon?"

Silence.

"Come on, tell me! I can't very well read it myself," Baz laughs, placing a playful kiss on his cheek.

"She said . . uh, 'I would tell you to get a room but you already have your own,'" Simon mumbled. "And then she said 'so I guess I'm going to tell you to get a sound proof room instead'". Baz burst out cackling as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Simon buried his face in his hands, utterly embarassed.

"Come on, Simon, it's pretty funny."

"I mean, yeah, but . . . " Simon takes a deep breath. "This is such a shitty way for her to find out. I didn't even get the chance to properly tell her. And I wanted to. I wanted to make it official, you know?"

Baz smiles at this, scooting closer to Simon and resting his head on his shoulder. "That's sweet, Snow, but Bunce is as smart as they come. I think she knew before you knew," Baz laughs, placing a kiss on his cheek. Simon rolls his eyes before rolling out of bed.

"You're right," he sighs, shoving his pants back on. "I should go talk to her." Baz remains in bed, stretched out, looking comfortable. "I'll be right back," he says, closing the door behind him.

He knocks gently on Penny's door. "Enter!" Penny calls and he pushes the door open.

"Hey . . . "

Penny just smirks at him. Raises an eyebrow.

"Um, so, I wanted to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"So, me and Baz, we're, um . . . "

"Friends?" Penny laughs, making Simon squirm.

"No, we're dating," Simon corrects, clearing his throat.

"I know that," Penny laughs.

"Yeah but I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to tell you, I was, I just . . . I wasn't sure how . . "

"It's okay, Simon," she smiles, closing the book in front of her and crossing her legs. "I understand. And I'm happy for you. It's good that you've finally found someone."

"Yeah. Thanks."

" _But,_ " Penny adds, pointing a finger at him. "Please do look into how much sound-proofing costs."

Simon shakes his head at her and she laughs, falling back onto her mattress. "Goodnight, Simon," she says. "GOODNIGHT, BAZ!" she yells.

"YOU TOO, BUNCE," Baz hollers back and Simon whacks his forehead, wondering how he ended up with these two amazing people.

He closes Penny's door, walks across the hall, and slides back into bed beside Baz.

"See, that wasn't too bad," the taller boy says, pulling Simon against him so his chest is pressed about Simon's back.

"Yeah," Simon smiles, enjoying Baz's warm embrace.


	7. That's it! Final Note

Okay so I think that's the end of the fic...I've been trying to write another chapter but I honestly don't know where to take this, so that's that! Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!

I love Snowbaz so much so if you have any prompts or ideas please message me or leave a comment and I will try my best to write it!


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